‘But more than that,’ Malik continued, ‘the danger is also due to the Emperor. He is the one who gave the Gift to Bastien.’

Chapter Thirty-Two

I stared at Malik, horrified. ‘The Emperor is Bastien’s master?’

‘He is.’

Fuck. Bastien might be the Autarch, and have gained his autonomy centuries ago, but if the Emperor was his master, there was a pretty good chance he could waltz back in and start ordering Bastien around like he was a baby vamp. And Bastien owned Malik’s Oath.

Malik raked a hand through his hair. ‘I cannot risk any other knowing I have the ability to access your magic in this way, Genevieve. It would make you too vulnerable.’

He had it in one. If I wanted to keep my freedom then there was no way any vamp who had power over Malik – be they Bastien or the Emperor – could be allowed to know what Malik could do with a quick slurp of my blood.

But greater than the threat to me was the havoc that sort of power could cause between the different supernatural races. The Emperor might be European Head Fang, but unlike in the UK, vamps in Europe weren’t mainstream; there was just too much prejudice and superstition against them from both non-magical humans and the European Witch Councils. It kept the vamps in check and often in hiding, fearing for their nearly immortal lives. Whereas with the Live and Let Live Tenets of the UK witches and vamps, and the vamps recent step up to celebrity status . . .

I raised my brows. ‘I’m guessing that the vamp set-up in the UK looks pretty attractive to the Emperor?’

Malik inclined his head in agreement. ‘London, in particular.’

Damn. No wonder Malik had made me drink all my power back. If the Emperor was already interested in taking over, then a vamp able to use a sidhe’s power would definitely add a high shine. ‘Fuck, Malik, if you’d just explained what I needed to do I’d have done it. You didn’t have to order me.’

‘My apologies, Genevieve. The revenant is more easily controlled if it is not provoked.’

I frowned. Okay, so maybe I’d have wanted to know what the big deal was before I’d agreed, but— ‘You mean if you’renot provoked?’

‘The revenant is not I,’ he said, with an odd stiffness. ‘I am not the revenant.’

‘What does that mean?’

He gave me an empty stare. ‘We are not the same.’

Did he think he was possessed, or did he have some sort of weird alter-ID thing going on? Though with what he’d told me of his past, and the emotions I’d gleaned from his blood, or maybe our blood, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he did. ‘So what, you think of the revenant part of you as separate?’

‘If you wish.’

O- kay. Probably better if we left the philosophising for another time. Like when we didn’t have to worry about the Emperor or what he wanted. ‘So,’ I said, glancing at the opaque dome, ‘if you’re feeling yourself again, we need to work out how I’m going to speak to the Emperor about the fae’s fertility. And find out what he and his werewolves have got to do with the Bangladeshi ambassador and his missing wife and kid.’

‘It is something to consider,’ Malik said, ‘but first . . .’ He picked up a pebble from the ground, took my left hand and, pulling us up to our feet, dropped the stone into my palm and closed my fingers over it. ‘Travel safe, Genevieve.’

I had a split second to think, oh shit, before his eyes flashed gold, my stomach lurched and the island and boating lake vanished.

I landed hard—

On the gravel roof outside my flat. A second later my backpack appeared.

I took a wary scan around. The roof was empty, the majority of windows I could see were dark, and above me the stars twinkled happily despite the haze of sodium light polluting the night sky.

The exasperating vamp had sicced me with a Translocation spell.

It could take a full witch coven hours to castone of those, and even then they didn’t always hit the target.

And Malik had castit just by picking up a stone.

Like it was no harder than blinking an eye.

Even channelling a sidhe’s power, that was fucking scary.

But how the hell had he even known how?

The annoying vamp was going to have to come up with a lot of answers next time I saw him.

More disturbing though was the fact that it sounded like there was a vamp throwdown in the offing. Something Malik obviously wasn’t interested in discussing with me, judging by my involuntary quick exit. No doubt the idiot vamp was trying to protect me again by keeping me out of the loop. But with the tarot cards pointing the finger at the Emperor for info on releasing the fae’s trapped fertility, and with the kidnap victims to find, no way was I going to twiddle my fingers while Malik did whatever Malik was thinking of doing.

‘No doubt some stupid Lone Ranger impression,’ I muttered.

So, next step was . . . speak to Tavish. He was as invested in finding the answers as I was.

I scrambled up, dusting myself off with a groan. Malik’s Translocation spell had dropped me on my butt, hard enough to jolt every vertebra in my spine. At least his leather coat had stopped me getting gravel burn, even if it did drag around my feet.

I grabbed my backpack, gathered up the long coat like I was some Victorian maiden about to flee, and pushed my way into the Warded dome. It clung like extra-sticky glue, evidently recognising me but not entirely happy at letting me through. Had to be my vamp-recycled blood.

As the Ward snapped into place behind me, I heard an ominous splash. Damn. Bertha the eel had woken up. I turned, hoping to make a dash over the roof garden for my open bedroom window, to find the huge eel was high-tailing it at me like she was going for the world record of ‘fastest slithering thing on the planet’, along with ‘jaws wide enough to swallow a cow and sporting an impressive set of razor-sharp gnashers’. What the hell had Ricou been feeding her? Super-size shrimp dinners? She had to have tripled in size since I’d seen her that morning. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating, but, Bertha’s bite is way worse than her bark. The size she was now, she wouldn’t leave just teeth marks in my calf, she’d have half my leg off.

I waved my hand at her, shouting, ‘Biscuit!’ and then pretending to throw the non-existent biscuit.

Bertha ignored my ruse, and kept coming.

Crap. My only chance was to backtrack through the Ward, climb down the roof ladder and use the front door.

The Ward wasn’t interested in letting me leave.

I was caught between it and the freak of an eel. Trapped. Damn Ward really didn’t like my recycled blood.

‘Now would be a good time for some help,’ I muttered. Only help wasn’t coming. Not at this time of the night. And while I had Ascalon, and the blessed sword would make short work of the giant eel, no way did I want to hurt Bertha; it wasn’t her fault she didn’t like me. Not to mention she was Ricou and Sylvia’s beloved pet. Only I already knew I wasn’t fast enough to outrun her . . .

Maybe I could Glamour her?

I’d have to touch her. And hell, I’d never tried to Glamour a fish, or whatever Bertha was. But I had nothing else—

I yanked up my magic, ducked under her looming jaws and slapped my hand on her slippery slimy neck.

Blue light, not gold, sparked from my fingers.

What the—

Bertha froze.

I gaped for a second, then turned and ran, threw my backpack through the open window and dived headfirst after it into the dark room and crash-landed onto the wooden floorboards. Panting, I grabbed the low windowsill and pulled myself up to check on Bertha.

She was still frozen. An odd nimbus of flickering blue light, like an aura, or the blue flames that flared in Malik’s pupils when he used vamp magic to stop time, surrounded her long fishy body.

I stared transfixed. There was only one explanation.